


TWD Oneshots

by andthewhales



Category: The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Character, Lots of pairings, drabbles and oneshots, idk we'll see where it goes, just a bunch of random prompts, mostly PG-13, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthewhales/pseuds/andthewhales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fics inspired by random writing prompts from tumblr, just to keep my writer's block at bay. In no particular order.</p>
<p>1. I work at a movie theatre and I’m cleaning up after the movie is over and you’re the only person left because you’re ugly crying with popcorn over your lap (Beth, Rick)<br/>2. the new handyman's hot so I’m gonna keep breaking stuff (Rosita/Abraham)<br/>3. I’m having a shit day and you just crashed into my car (Tara/Beth)<br/>4. you just moved into my building so I’m gonna bring you something you probably already have just so I can meet you (Beth, Tara, Daryl) <br/>5. superhero/sidekick (Daryl/Rick)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rick and Beth at the Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I work at a movie theatre and I’m cleaning up after the movie is over and you’re the only person left because you’re ugly crying with popcorn over your lap (Beth, Rick)

The credits had already stopped rolling by the time Beth entered the dingy darkness of “Theatre 4, to your left.” The floors were sticky as always, and someone had dumped their half-full popcorn all over the front row of seats. Probably Jessica Sinders, again, still self-righteously angry about being dumped by Beth during senior year.

High school rivalries were such bullshit, Beth thought to herself as she began sweeping off the red cushioned chairs. Especially when it was two years past graduation and the both of them had long since found other people to date. But some people just couldn’t let things go.

She jumped when she heard someone sniffle from the back of the theatre and quickly brought the broom up in front of her. Her hometown was small and usually harmless, but every place had its drunks, and she hardly wanted to get involved in any unpleasant business. Especially after a long and tedious day of college classes and work.

“The theatre’s closin’ soon,” she called out cautiously, careful to remain still and wait for the stranger to make the first move.

“I know, I’m sorry,” came a gruff but familiar voice. The stranger, a man, stood up from his seat in the far back corner and rolled his shoulders slowly. It took a few moments for Beth to match his voice to the thick beard and square build, but she recognized the deputy well enough after years of living in town together.

“Mr. Grimes?”

“Hey, Beth.” His voice was low and shaky. And as he ambled down the steps towards her, she could see that the smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes, which were noticeably red, even in the dim light of the stair lights.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Grimes?”

“I’ve known you since you were a baby, Beth. You can call me Rick.”

“I know that, Mr. Grimes,” She responded with a smirk and was rewarded with a tiny huff of laughter. Rick’s eyes wandered a bit as they stood awkwardly together in the aisle and the smile slipped off his face. He coughed once then quickly shrugged on his coat.

“I, uh, I’ll get out of your way. Sorry to keep you.” He made to move around her and toward the exit. Without thinking, Beth shot out her hand to stop him, grasping at the sleeve of his jacket. There was something in his eyes that worried her, something she’d never seen in all the years she’d know him. She couldn’t just let him walk out like this.

“Wait,” she insisted. “You sure you’re okay? Do you wanna call somebody? Lori, or Mr. Walsh?”

Rick laughed again, but this time it was choked with tears. “No. God, no. Not them.”

He turned away from her to wipe at his eyes and drag in a shaky breath.

“They’re sleeping together,” the officer mumbled into his sleeve, still half-turned away and facing the empty rows of chairs. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I can’t- I haven’t…And our baby, I don’t even know if she’s mine anymore. It doesn’t even matter because Lori wants a divorce, and she’s gonna take ‘em both-”  
His voice cracked and he faltered, shoulders sagging as he curled in on himself, trying to contain his sobs. Beth felt a painful tightening in her chest as she watched the man fall apart, probably not for the first time that night.

Beth had really only ever had one way of comforting folks, and it usually worked, so without hesitation she tugged on Rick’s sleeve again and maneuvered him into a hug. The older man jerked back at first, but quickly resigned himself to settle against her and hold her tight.

“Sorry, Beth,” he whispered into her hair, tears soaking into her blue work shirt. “I just needed somewhere to go that wasn’t...where they wouldn’t come looking.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Grimes. But I think maybe you should come home with me and talk to my Daddy. He knows about stuff like this.”

She felt him nod compliantly against her shoulder, then he pulled away and sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, seeming to speak more to himself than to her. She smiled softly at him as he walked away, promising to wait in the parking lot for her. Her long night was about to get longer, she was sure. But at least this way Rick would have someone to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the greatest thing I've ever written, but I love the relationship between Rick and Beth and felt like playing with it. So yeah. Enjoy!


	2. Rosita and Abraham the Handy Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. the new handyman's hot so I’m gonna keep breaking stuff (Rosita/Abraham)

“It’s not often I make multiple visits to the same home in one week,” Abraham commented lightly to the woman leaning up against the counter. He was elbow deep in the death trap beneath her sink, a tangled mess of rusted pipes and shoddy patchwork. His current focus, the water filtration system, had been smashed to hell and back and was doing its best to tear up his hands with a vengeance.

Four days ago he’d been called in to install a new toilet for one Ms. Rosita Espinosa. The day after that, he was fixing a busted garage door. Then a clogged bathtub faucet. Now, the Ford’s Fix-It motto was “We’ll take care of everything,” but this tight and tanned senorita was making damned sure Abraham’s money and mouth were in the same place. And he’d bet both his nuts that she’d been staring at his ass every step of the way.

“What can I say,” Espinosa replied, shifting to cock out one perfect, shapely hip, “this place is a piece of shit. I can’t help it if everything decides to fall apart all at once.”

Abraham laughed. “Fall apart, my pasty white ass. This water filter looks like it’s been hacked apart by a ball peen hammer.”

He stood, wiping his hands off on the dishtowel sitting by the sink. Giving her a long, lingering look, he smirked a little and turned to face her. “Are you in possession of a ball peen hammer, Ms. Espinosa?”

“I might be.” she shrugged, “Are you in possession of a wife?”

Damn, no shame with this one. The glint in her eyes was brazen and proud as she stepped closer. Abraham felt the familiar and pleasant sensation of blood rushing south.

“Not for some time now.”

“Good.”

And without a second to waste, she was on him like a lioness on a goddamn antelope. Powerful, in-control, and sexy as hell. One strong thigh shoved in between his, the other coming up to wrap around his midsection and squeeze. Their mouths closed in on one another, teeth clashing unapologetically and tongues battling aggressively. Ms. Rosita Espinosa certainly knew how to use her hands. Grinding and shoving and grabbing and-

“Jesus, woman, slow down. We got time.”

“Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with the boss,” she quipped with a wicked grin.

“I am the boss.”

“Not today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels poorly put together but whatever. I was in the mood for some Espinosa/Ford amusement.


	3. Tara's Accident and Coffee with Beth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. I’m having a shit day and you just crashed into my car (Tara/Beth)

Being in a car accident sucked. Being in a car accident in the middle of winter sucked more. But being the sad little car stuck in center of the ice-slicked intersection when there are speeding cars coming at you from two different directions definitely took the cake.

It wasn’t even her fault, Tara thought to herself as she shoved the deflating airbag out of the way. Serious bullshit that the guy was screaming at her through the window about his wrecked sports car when his stupid ass was the one who pushed her past the stop sign in the first place. She’d come to a full, complete stop, goddamn it. Like you were supposed to do. It wasn’t her fault he hadn’t been paying attention and they’d both skidded forward into oncoming traffic.

And now poor little four-door Bobby was dented all to hell and his bumper was sitting on the sidewalk across the street. Tara had been driving around in Bobby since she was sixteen. It was almost physically painful to see him like this, crunched up between a big-ass blue truck, a maroon soccer mom van, and Dickish McAsshole’s fancy yellow racer. Add in Bobby’s teal frame and it was a sad, totaled rainbow.

God, her head hurt. And her neck. There was totally gonna be bruising from the seatbelt, too. At least she’d been wearing it. Momma taught her right. Speaking of the seatbelt, she couldn’t get it unbuckled, no matter how hard she jammed her thumb against the button or jerked on the vinyl strap. Bobby wouldn’t start either, and both the minivan and the truck were crunched so close up against the sides of the car that there was no way she was getting out of there any time soon.

Not that she really wanted to. It was cold as hell outside. Way different from Georgia. Why the hell had her sister Amanda decided to move to Minnesota again? Why had Tara agreed to drive up to this hellhole for Christmas? Why was the world so cruel?

McAsshole was still screaming outside her window, although she’d noticed now that he was directing his bitchy attitude at the pair of police officers who’d shown up. Awesome. One of them tapped on the class and motioned for her to roll it down. But seeing as Bobby had died and was refusing to start again, that was pretty much impossible. Tara cracked the door open as much as she could next to the truck’s front bumper.

“Uh, hi.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Officer Stanton. Are you injured at all?”

“Not really. My neck and head hurt, but I can move and everything. Can’t get the seatbelt off, though.”

“That’s alright, we’ve got some tow trucks and an ambulance on the way. You just stay put while we get this figured out. Do you have a jacket or a blanket in there with you?”

“Yeah, not so much,” she admitted, feeling stupid. “I’m from Georgia.”

The officer laughed. “I’ll be right back with something to keep you warm. Don’t worry.”

Tara smiled at him as he left and then quickly shut the door again to keep out the cold. Jesus, fuck Minnesota. Snow and ice and wind and seriously, why had her sister moved here? This was like courting death. She shivered for like the millionth time and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. At least she’d worn a hoodie.

Glancing into her side mirror, she caught sight of McAsshole arguing with the other police officer and a young blonde woman. A really pretty young blonde woman. The girl was dressed for winter, all wrapped up in fuzzy-looking outerwear of the soft pastel persuasion. And the boots, goddamn, those were some sexy leather boots. How the hell did she walk in those with ice everywhere? Did the heels have spikes or something?

The girl was gesturing wildly to the officer and glaring at McAsshole as she talked, and after a few minutes of conversation, the douchebag driver was looking much less angry and much more embarrassed. Was she one of the other drivers in the accident, maybe? She didn’t seem like the type to drive a minivan, and Tara thought she looked way too tiny to be driving that huge truck. Maybe she’d been a passenger.

There was another tap on the window next to her and she swung around to see Officer Stanton had returned with a blanket. Tara cracked open the door again, thanking him.

“Hey,” she said before he took off again, “Do you know what’s going on over there?”

“Eyewitness. Said she was passing by and saw the whole thing, so we’re getting her statement.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

The officer hummed in agreement. “We’re just about ready to move these other cars, so just sit tight. And bundle up.”

“Will do.”

Ten minutes later and Bobby was finally freed from his prison between the other vehicles, and Tara was led by Officer Stanton into a nearby building. A great big modern-style church with a snazzy lobby and gorgeous Christmas decorations everywhere, all gold and red and twinkling lights. And heat, blessed heat. She sent up a quick thank you to whatever version of God this place worshipped, and then immediately followed it with a little prayer for Bobby as she watched his body being dragged away by one of the tow trucks. Poor Bobby.

Officer Stanton took down her statement, being pleasantly calm and friendly the entire time, for which Tara was grateful. The warmth of the church and the residual stress of the situation has started catching up to her and man, was she tired now. After a brief argument about whether or not she should get checked out by the paramedic (no thank you, I’m fine), and ensuring that she had all the necessary information for taking care of her car, Stanton had wandered off and Tara was left alone in the lobby, blanket draped around her shoulders. The silence was soon interrupted by the sound of clacking heels on the tile floor.

Damn, Tara loved that sound.

She turned towards the noise and was pleasantly surprised to see the blonde woman from outside walking towards her, the sweetest smile on her face.  
“Hi, I’m Beth,” the stranger started out, thrusting one hand forward. Tara took it politely and tried not to focus on how soft the other woman’s skin was.

“Yeah, hi. Um, Tara,” she stumbled, “I saw you outside. The police said you saw the accident?”

“Yeah, I was at the corner when that jerk hit you. And I, well, I stayed around to watch,” she confessed with the slightest glimmer of guilt in her eyes, “You know, kind of like when you can’t look away from a train wreck? But anyway, then I heard him telling the cops that it was your fault, and that’s total bullshit, so I figured I should talk to them.”

“Jeeze, thank you. Like really. I wasn’t really sure how I was gonna handle that.”

“Well, now there’s both of our words against his, so hopefully you’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah. Still sucks though. I’m not from around here, and I don’t even know where they’re taking my car,” she lamented, glancing down at the now crumpled piece of paper with the address to an auto shop scribbled across it. “And my sister’s place is still, like, four hours away. Crap, I should call her.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Beth laughed, then bit her lip shifted a little awkwardly on her feet, “I was just waiting around for the bus, and since the accident is holding everything up it will probably be a while. Do you wanna get some coffee with me? You know, after you call your sister?”

Tara full-on gaped at her, probably for an entire minute, before she finally managed to pull words out of her brain and shove them into the space between them.  
“Y-yeah. Uh, yes. Yes. That would be awesome. Like, really awesome.”

Beth smirked. “Really awesome, huh?”

“Or, you know, the regular amount of awesome,” Tara backpedaled, knowing that the blush spreading across her face was probably pretty obvious.

Dear God of the warm, cheery, Christmasy church, please don’t let me mess up whatever the hell this is, she pleaded silently.

Beth laughed and offered to wait over by the door while Tara called Amanda. As expected, her older sister immediately flew into a panic as soon as the word ‘accident’ passed Tara’s lips. But after a solid five minutes of confirming that, no, no one was hurt, they were able to form a plan that involved Amanda and her fiancé coming to pick Tara up. Probably from the coffee shop. Where she’d be sitting with Beth. For three and a half hours.

“Don’t bother rushing or anything,” Tara insisted, “no need for you guys to get in an accident, too. I can wait.”

“Just stay safe and don’t get into any more trouble! We’ll be there as soon as we can. Love you.”

“Love you, too, ‘manda.”

She pocketed her phone and traipsed over to where the blonde was gazing out the big glass doors, doing her best to bundle the blanket around her body in a manageable way.

“My sister’s gonna drive down to get me. Should be about four hours. I figured once she’s closer I could give her the address of the coffee shop,” she informed Beth, hoping that the other woman hadn’t changed her mind.

“Cool,” Beth responded with a bright smile, “there’s a super cute place like two blocks from here that I go to all the time. Are you gonna be okay walking in just a blanket?”

“Yeah I’ll be fine. Lead the way.”

As soon as they stepped out the doors, Tara felt those words crawl back inside her mouth and jump down her throat.

“Oh god, I was wrong. This is cold. Really fucking cold. Why do you live here?! How do you feel about speed walking? I think speed walking is great.”

Beth’s laugh rang out again, and really, it was almost as sexy as the sound of her click-clacking boots on the icy pavement. Seriously, how was she walking in them?

“Come on, it’s not too far. We’re almost there.”

Beth led them up to a tiny little store squeezed in between two nearly identical floral shops, both of which had windows full of mistletoe and holly. The door old and wooden and creaked as Beth held it open for Tara, who ended up blushing again at the gentlemanly treatment. God, what was this, a blockbuster chick flick?  
The kid behind the counter apparently knew Beth very well, because he came out from behind the bar to greet her with a hug. His nametag read “Glenn” and when Beth regaled him with the tale of Tara’s absolutely tragic accident, he offered them both of their coffees for free.

“Beth and Maggie are both in here so often that half our profit probably comes from them. And car accidents suck. And I just feel like giving away free coffee to nice people, I guess,” he babbled to them as he made their drinks.

“Maggie’s my sister,” Beth explained once they were seated at a little round table near the entrance, “and Glenn’s had a crush on her for months now. He’s too shy to ask her out, but I’m working on a way to set them up.”

“That’s pretty conspiratorial of you,” Tara accused playfully, “what if it totally backfires or something?”

Beth shrugged, unconcerned, “I like to take chances whenever I see them. That’s the reason I asked you out on this date.”

Tara was so, so fucking glad she hadn’t just been taking a drink of her peppermint mocha at that moment, or else it would have undoubtedly been spewed all over the table between them.

“Uh, date?”

“Yeah,” Beth drawled out, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Is that okay with you? I mean, I saw you checking me out from inside your car.”

Tara was blushing. Again. She hastily cleared her throat. “You, uh. You’re a really direct person.”

“I get that a lot. Does it bother you?”

“No. Nope. I’m cool with direct. It’s awesome.”

“Really awesome, or just the regular amount?” Beth teased. And like that, the panicky awkwardness that had built up inside her began to diffuse. Beth was hot. Beth was funny. Beth had asked Tara out on a date. Maybe they’d never see each other again after Amanda showed up to drive Tara deeper into the hell that was Minnesota. But whatever. Tara could at least sit here and enjoy the pleasant company of an absolutely stellar human being for three and a half hours. And maybe, just maybe, work up the ovaries to ask for a phone number before she left.

“Really awesome. Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Tareth, and I might continue on this one at a later time. We'll see how it goes. They're just so cute! (Also I forgot the name of Tara's sister, so I just called her Amanda. I'll fix it eventually.)


	4. Daryl Meets His Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. you just moved into my building so I’m gonna bring you something you probably already have just so I can meet you (Daryl, Tara, Beth)

The power had been out for about six hours when the light above Daryl’s front door flickered, signaling that someone had rung his doorbell. He sighed and stretched, long limbs reaching out and dangling off the edges of the too small couch, before heaving himself up to address the interruption. Assuming it was an electrician or the building manager come to talk about the outage, he grabbed his pen and pad of paper off the counter before opening the door.

To his surprise, a chipper, smiling blonde greeted him. Behind her was the girl from across the hall, whose name Daryl had never actually learned. Unsure of what they could possibly want, he began scribbling on the pad, but the blonde quickly halted him with a delicate wave of her hands.

"Hi," she signed, her tiny hand jutting out from the tip of her temple in a formal greeting. "My name is Beth and her name is Tara."

Daryl could barely manage a wave in response, too shocked by the reality of another person signing at him. No one signed at him. Not even the doctor’s office had an interpreter for him; he always used his pen and paper. Who the hell was this chick?

"Sorry to surprise you," Beth continued, "we wondered if you wanted to hang out with us? The power is out and we thought you were maybe bored like us."

Her signing was fluent. Elegant. Much better than his had ever been. Then again she probably hadn’t learned her ASL from some fifty year-old lady who worked at a nursing home. She’d probably been taught in a professional school, one of those all-Deaf ones he’d read about online when he was younger. Looking her up and down, it was easy to see she had money. Or came from money. Or both.

No thank you, he responded before hastily shutting the door in her face. The girls had looked like they were still college age, way too young to be socializing with someone like him. Last thing he needed was some rich girl’s daddy calling the police on him for creeping on some barely-legal kids.

How the hell had they even known he signed? He’d never interacted with the brunette before. (Tara, his mind supplied.) He’d never done anything more than nod at her in the hallway once or twice. Nosey brat. And where had Beth come from? Daryl vaguely remembered getting a note from the landlord saying something about a new tenant, and he prayed it wasn’t her. He’d moved here for the quiet and the anonymity, not to be pestered by fresh-out-of-high-school punks looking to screw with their neighbor.

The doorbell lit up again, and sure enough, when he looked out the peephole, the girls were both still standing there. Frustrated, he turned away and stomped back to the couch where he sank down into the worn out cushions and threw a blanket over his head to block the blinking light. They’d go away eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one I want to expand on. Like full novel-length story. But again, we'll see how it goes.


	5. Batman and Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. superhero/sidekick (Daryl/Rick)  
> Also, I deviated a little. They're not actually superheroes, sorry.

“Careful, Robin!”

“Call me that again, Grimes, and I’m gonna tear your damn head off.”

“Watch your language in front of the children, my loyal sidekick, or you’re gonna find yourself kicked out on your rear,” Rick cooed to Daryl through his Batman mask, although he was still looking down at his daughter, who was struggling to remove said mask from her Daddy’s face. Daryl himself was struggling to keep a grip on a squealing and giggling baby boy as he attacked the hunter’s chest with a bat-shaped boomerang.

They’d found the baby and his mother on a run a couple weeks back, and the poor woman had been more than happy to let someone else help out with her child after months of being on the run alone. Little Punk (whose real name was Henry) was just a few months younger than Asskicker, and they’d become a bit of a matched set, bouncing around together from caretaker to caretaker, practically inseparable. They even slept side by side, as they were much harder to put down to bed when kept apart.

“Are you having fun, little Batgirl?,” Rick asked his baby girl, voice pitched low just like the superhero in the movies. “Do you like playing with Batman and his very best super pal Robin? Are you gonna help us be protectors of the night?”

Daryl groaned.

“If I’da known you were gonna be such a di…dingbat about it, I’d have left this stuff back at the darn store,” he grumbled lowly, Henry’s belly and making faces at him as he wriggled, practically wailing with laughter and flailing the black and yellow toy wildly.

Daryl had always been fond of bringing back toys for Judith when he went out beyond the prison gates, and with another baby hanging around it had become even more enjoyable to show up with stuffed animals or brightly colored pieces of plastic junk for them to throw around and chew on. And maybe the kids were still too young for Batman. But when Daryl and Michonne had hit up the big party store out of curiosity, he couldn’t help snatching up the masks and accessories.

Of course, he hadn’t been expecting Rick to enjoy the toys more than the kids. The older man had thrown on the black mask the second he found it, growling out ridiculous lines about justice in a low rumbling voice that sent his daughter and Henry into hysterics right off the bat. Daryl had thought that might be the end of it but hell, no. Rick had manhandled the hunter into the stupid sidekick getup, mask and cape and everything, and they’d spent the afternoon whooshing around the prison mess hall, each with an excitable baby in their arms.

It wasn’t like Daryl hated it. On the contrary, he loved the time he got to spend with Rick and the kids. And his leader looked funny as hell in the plastic Batman getup. But this whole Robin thing was grating on his nerves. There was just something about the sound of Rick’s voice calling him by anything other than ‘Daryl’ that rubbed him the wrong way.

Daryl had slipped into thought for longer than Henry was willing to tolerate, and soon a tiny fist tangled itself into the coarse hairs of his goatee and yanked hard.

“Sonuva-”

“Robin!” Rick chided in warning.

“Quit callin’ me that!” he barked back, reaching up to gently uncurl the chubby little fingers from his facial hair. “And that’s enough outta you, Little Punk.”

Henry grinned back at him, happy to have the man’s undivided attention once again. Daryl sighed and rolled onto his back, balancing Henry on his stomach as the tyke tested his legs out, bouncing up and down, still not used to his own weight. Daryl smirked a little at the tiny little crease appeared between the baby’s eyes as he concentrated on balancing and holding tight to the man’s fingers. Judith had already mastered the difficult art of standing, and soon enough they’d both be running around, getting into god knows what. How exactly did one toddler-proof a prison, Daryl wondered.

“Think it’s about time they both go down for a nap, huh?” Rick commented softly after a while, finally pushing the stupid mask up and off his face. Daryl looked over and noticed Judith yawning widely, fighting to stay upright in her father’s arms. Henry wasn’t nearly so tired yet, but if Judith went down he usually did, too. They were easy babies, both of them.

“Mhm,” Daryl agreed quietly, “best get their bottles then. You want me to take her?”

“Nah, I got it.”

Rick eased up off the cement floor, grimacing as his joints popped when he stood. Daryl chuckled, but he knew he’d be just as stiff when he got up himself. He moved back into a sitting position, settling Henry in between his legs and distracting him with the yellow utility belt. Even with Rick’s ridiculous reaction, the comic toys had been a success and Daryl had a feeling they’d get a lot of use before they were retired.

Rick returned shortly with the bottles and an already sleeping Judith. After a quick feeding and an even quicker diaper changing, both babies were tucked away into their boxes, side by side in the designated ‘napping’ cell. The two men retired to a table just outside the cell to await Carol, who would be taking the next shift with the children. Rick sighed long and hard when his body hit the bench and hunched over to rest his head on the cool metal of the table.

“You know, we’ve spent months at a time on the run, going from place to place, and those two still tire me out even more than the hardest days on the road.”

“I hear ya. The Punk’s got more stamina than someone his size’s got any right to.”

Rick chuckled and rolled his head to look up at Daryl.

“Sorry for putting you through the torment of being my sidekick all morning long.”

Daryl snorted noncommittally. “S’fine.”

Rick’s eyebrow arched knowingly. Daryl shifted a little under the gaze before huffing out a frustrated breath and leaning forward on his elbows.

“Guess I just don’t really like bein’ called somethin’ else.”

“Excuse me?” Rick blurted out, surprised.

“What?”

“You don’t like nicknames? You? After all the ones you throw at other people? Sunshine? Short round? Officer Friendly?”

“I ain’t never called you that,” Daryl argued, “That was all Merle.”

“Mhm,” Rick hummed sarcastically and Daryl rolled his eyes. “I s’pose so. But you have to admit, it’s a little hypocritical of you.”

“Whatever.”

“And besides, I’ve never heard you complain about Carol calling you Pookie,” Rick countered. Daryl flushed.

“That’s different. It’s Carol.”

“So it’s just me that can’t give you nicknames?”

“That ain’t what I’m sayin’!”

“Well, what are you saying?” Rick pressed, the beginnings of a grin tugging at his mouth. Daryl scowled at him and looked away. Rick laughed and muttered something about stubbornness, then shuffled closer to Daryl on the bench leaning into his shoulder.

“I promise not to call you Robin again.” Rick breathed against his shirt, “Just Daryl, from now on.”

“Said I don’t care,” Daryl groused.

“Right.” Rick grinned. He dragged his mouth up to the shell of the hunter’s ear. “Daryl.”

The younger man shivered. “Stop.”

“Daryl,” the ex-cop rumbled again, reaching one hand out to curl around Daryl’s waist.

“We’re gonna get caught…” Daryl trailed off with a groan as Rick whispered his name again, then started licking and nipping his way down to the collar of his shirt. Daryl rolled his head back to give the older man better access to the bare skin. He reached a hand out to grasp at Rick’s thigh, and felt the other man moaned softly against him.

“Mmm, just like that, Robin.”

Daryl’s head snapped up fast enough to give him whiplash as he violently shoved a giggling Rick away from him.

“Fuck you,” he cursed, standing up from the table and storming away to his own cell. “See if you get anything from me now. Y’all best find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Rick seemed completely unphased by the threat as he continued wheezing and snorting at Daryl’s dramatic exit. He wouldn’t be laughing when he found his stuff out on the landing later that night. Or when the stupid Batman toys all disappeared. Asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret absolutely nothing about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Also none of these are beta'd, so if anyone's interested in doing that, let me know! Thanks for reading :)


End file.
